


Drinking Can

by zombiecheetah



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: But boy does he ever, Drinking, Dubcon Mention, F/M, Loki pretends not to care, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Val needs a hug, Valki - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiecheetah/pseuds/zombiecheetah
Summary: Loki reflects on his choices while watching Val drink herself under a table.





	Drinking Can

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/gifts).



> From the prompt "You're a real hero"

Guilt was a feeling Loki was fairly familiar with. 

Right now it was courting him in the kitchens of their ship, with him on one side of the table and Valkyrie on the other, drinking her, what was it now, 11th? 12th can of some alcoholic filth that made his nose turn. 

Everyone else was in bed. She had been screaming in her sleep, waking him who then woke her, who then demanded another go at the ship’s stores, to which he had obliged. Thor, bless, already had a hand in conveniently misplacing a selection of what drink they still had on the ship. But he knew, better than his brother, what would happen if they simply denied or repressed the problem rather than dealt with it. 

Not that he was an expert at that either. Looking back, his own efforts and motivations seemed to escape him from time to time. What he had done out of love or spite for his brother. Whom he had killed for himself or the titan who had so elegantly and horribly crafted him into a willing soldier. Or at least willing enough. And “willing enough” seemed to have been the Grandmaster’s war cry, he thought with a shudder before pushing that particular set of memories deep down, where he hoped they would never reappear. And there was another wave of that guilt, as it was technically his fault that this memory had once against invaded her dreams. Had she been someone different, he would have been quite pleased with himself for inventing such a particularly brutal form of torment. But she didn’t deserve that, not at all. 

At this rate, perhaps he should join her in her quest for alcohol poisoning. They were just the blind leading the blind, after all. 

“You are staring very intensely at me for someone who has been silent this entire time, Lackey,” Valkyrie commented as she tossed her 11th or 12th empty can over her shoulder, her dark eyes once again glazed over. “You might want to be careful. One may mistake that look for concern.” 

He sat perfectly still, as she unsteadily stood, tripped over an empty can, and tumbled over her own chair into a crumpled heap on the ground. 

“Watch out,” he said dryly, gazing down at her from the table. “We would not want you to injure yourself.” 

“You’re a real hero,” she hissed from the floor. 

He rolled his eyes and stood, leaning down to offer her a hand up. “If you want a hero, my brother is down the hall. He may be up for a fuck but he is not going to sit quietly while you drink yourself to death.” 

“And you are?” she asked stiffly, ignoring his hand, trying to stand on her own, but only succeeding in kicking around some more empty cans. 

“Brilliant, if you keep this up, perhaps you can wake the entire ship and take your pick,” he said, sounding almost amused. “May I recommend a healer so that you have someone around in case you need your stomach pumped?” 

“Fuck you, Lackey,” she said, coughing, before closing her mouth suddenly and taking a moment to what he could only guess was to swallow down bile.  

“My arm is going to tire sooner or later,” he replied. “Val. Come on. You are being ridiculous.”  

“Why are you even here?” she spat, looking up at him. “I thought all you wanted was a screw.” 

“It is in my best interest to then make sure that the one I am screwing does not end up dead in the kitchens on a spaceship,” he said, squatting down to her level and with a strange amount of tenderness, took her arm. 

“I do not need your pity,” she growled at him but yielded as he pulled her up, with her arm over his shoulders. 

“Did Thor not tell you?” he said to her, wrapping his other arm around her side. “I am incapable of such. Mercy is not in my nature.” 

“Could have fooled me,” she murmured but was silent all the way back to her room.  

 


End file.
